


healing process

by TheQueenInTheNorth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenInTheNorth/pseuds/TheQueenInTheNorth
Summary: Sinara is send into battle. She does not return. Kasius refuses to accept that.
Relationships: Kasius/Sinara (Marvel)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	healing process

Sinara is send into battle without him.

It is dressed up as some sort of honour, that she’s put in charge of her own company, but Kasius knows his father only intends to remove her from her position as Kasius’ personal guard. There is too much talk about them.

And so she is offered a mission she cannot turn down and Kasius’ protests fall on deaf ears, and Sinara is send into battle without him.

He calls her every day, and then messages her when he can’t get through to her reliably anymore. Her responses become shorter, less frequent, until they stop altogether.

He is told the battalion has been wiped out. He refuses to believe that, refuses to stop writing to her just because she won’t answer. Can’t answer.

The mere notion she might truly be dead, the idea of living without her - it does not bear thinking about.

So Kasius does not.

He sends her message throughout the day, leaves her long, rambling voice recordings at night, until he just always keeps his comms on. Somewhere, there are the ruins of Sinara’s comms, unable to receive all his pleading for a response. Somewhere, there is Sinara, unable to hear him.

In the palace, there is Kasius, talking to a ghost, left to his own grief that he refuses to name as such. A second son. Always a disappointed. He is brushed aside and he neither notices nor minds.

In his laboratory no one shoots him looks for speaking to empty air. In the library no one questions just who he is sliding papers across the table to. In his chambers the servants grit their teeth and set the second seat at his table; they report to General Krenyk, who worries but does not know how to help, because the Emperor does not want to hear about the disgrace that shares his blood.

Garron does not rid himself of the embarrassment, though he considers it daily. It does not mean he would not rejoice if some bad luck befell his son.

Luck is not on his side but it may have a sense of humour: Garron’s son dies. It is the wrong one.

Prince Kasius was left to his growing insanities. Crown prince Kasius is forced to at least keep up appearances.

It’s terribly difficult, after months and months of being left to pour his heart out to Sinara. There is a part of him - there always was a part of him, even the first day he got no response to his messages, even before word of the destroyed base reached the capital - that knows she is dead. Knows he should move on.

That part thinks he should have ended it while he had the chance. He’s too closely watched, now. He will sit the throne one day and Garron would rather have him than nothing at all, and he is too old and has too many dead wives to get another to birth him a more suitable replacement. A grandchild will have to do.

Kasius is betrothed the week after Faulnak is buried.

Kasius does not smile once throughout the feast.

His new fiancée, Sandei, does. Not once is it directed towards her soon-to-be husband. It could have been, had he ever so much as looked at her. She’s not surprised and she tries hard not to mind. Her name and breeding always meant a marriage not of her choosing; everyone has heard the new heir is an eccentric. She could have done worse than a man who looks to his side occasionally as if expecting someone there, while not looking at Sandei at all. Better a husband too heartbroken about another woman to pretend to be happy than one who acts his part to perfection and is cruel behind closed doors.

So Sandei talks and smiles and plays her part, well enough for the both of them, as Kasius sits, expressionless, and fights the urge to reach out to place his hand on Sinara’s back and whisper some jape to her.

* * *

The court is still officially in mourning; a great deal of noble houses have lost children on the same battlefield that claimed Faulnak’s life.

It means the wedding preparations only proceed slowly and Kasius is thankful for that. It gives him more time before he will have to speak vows he will not mean and try not to choke on those words.

He never intended to say them. He means them, for Sinara. She was never a marriage possibility. Suggestions of running away to change that had been met with scoffs and eyerolls. Her refusal to marry him had meant his refusal to marry at all.

There is no refusing, now.

He practices the vows over and over and over. He can’t school his features into something not resembling a grimace when saying them. Each word pierces him like a dagger.

He is pacing in his study and repeating them to himself in a frantic whisper, until he becomes aware of a presence. He turns to find Krenyk in the doorway, frown edged so firmly on his face he must have been standing there for a while, eyes so sad it twists the knife in Kasius’ guts deeper. He’s managed to be a disappointment to everyone now, it seems.

He certainly let down Sinara.

“She’s a good woman,”Krenyk says - Krenyk pleads.

He means Kasius’ future wife, he knows. He cannot confirm nor deny that statement with his scarce knowledge of her but he trusts Krenyk, even now, even if he didn’t stop Sinara being sent away when Kasius was too weak to do it himself. So he nods.

Krenyk steps closer and places a hand on Kasius’ elbow, gently, as if he were an animal ready to bolt.

“Give her a chance,”Krenyk says. It’s so urgent Kasius knows he means for him to give himself a chance, too. He watches the general’s throat work as he swallows hard, picking his words carefully.“You deserve happiness. She doesn’t deserve to live in the shadow of a dead woman.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,”Kasius replies. He isn’t sure what he is refuting. Sinara’s death, perhaps. His own worthiness to be anything but miserable, probably. Either way, he adds, forces himself to add,“I do not value Sinara more than -”

He breaks off, horrified at himself but hardly surprised.

“Sandei,”Krenyk supplies.

“Sandei,”Kasius says. His shoulders slump.“I’ll try.”

He’ll try to remember her name and he’ll try to speak the vows without them getting stuck in his throat. He’ll try to move on enough to be a bearable husband. He knows there is no use in trying to find happiness.

His happiness went to a battlefield and never returned.

* * *

Kasius makes it through his vows, weeks and weeks of practicing having made them meaningless enough not to flinch when Sandei says them to him, when they speak empty promises, claim, _I am yours, as you are mine._

It’s not entirely untrue, that part. She is not his, as he is not hers. Not what the vows mean but there is something to be said for keeping to the letter of the law and not its intentions.

Sinara smirks at those sort of things, golden eyes twinkling, brighter than a sunrise. That’s what Kasius thinks of, as he and Sandei mark one another as husband and wife.

He never thought much of the practice, until Sinara’s teeth ghosted against his skin one night, a silent confession. It is back to meaningless and quite crude in his eyes, now, feeling like a remnant of a more savage time. Two weeks later, it will feel like an omen, a reflection of this sham of marriage when Kasius’ mark becomes infected. He’s picked at it too much, wishing it gone with the same fervor he wishes for Sinara back.

On the night of their wedding, it just feels like a wound.

Kasius tries not to think of it that way. He tries to make it through the feast and tries to seem at least somewhat happy; he reminds himself he promised Krenyk he would try. He reminds himself his new wife had as little choice in this as he himself.

He reminds himself that his father cares only for the continuation of the bloodline and nothing for Kasius. He might not have to find what little courage he can muster to take the coward’s way out. When Garron has his grandchild, Kasius might well have an accident.

It’s that thought that gets him through the evening. It’s that thought that gets him all the way to what is meant to be their marriage bed.

It is not enough to stop his hands from shaking too much to manage to undo the lacings of the wedding gown. Sinara would have ripped them, had he somehow gotten her into the dress in the first place.

His eyes are stinging, his throat closing around sobs he can’t let out.

Sandei’s hand is shaking, too, as she lifts it to brush against his cheek, an unspoken question.

He flinches away before he can gather control of his emotions.

“I’m sorry,”he says, the first thing he says to her that isn’t some traditional vows he rattled off.

He leaves her there before she can respond, locking himself in his study and calling Sinara. There is no answer, of course. He leaves messages all night, long and heartfelt and nonsensical, until he runs out of things to say but not the need to keep talking, and so he just whispers in circles. _I miss you. I love you. I need you. I love you. I can’t keep going like this. I love you. I love you. I love you._

He does not sleep that night. He does not go back to his wife until morning.

He helps her out of the dress she had to sleep in, unable to rid herself of it, and wonders which one of them she wanted to spare the shame of having a servant help her.

“I’m sorry,”he repeats.

“That’s alright,”she says.

He can almost pretend it isn’t a lie, she says it so earnestly.

It’s far more kindness than he deserves.

It would be easier if she were cruel.

“It won’t happen again,”Kasius says, lie much more obvious, words much more hollow, especially because he retreats to his study again that night, and all nights after.

* * *

Kasius thinks he might have been able to be friends with his wife, under different circumstances.

She is kind, mostly, but quickwitted and sharp-tongued when the moment calls for it. She’s elegant, her tastes refined. She’s pretty, certainly, in a dainty kind of way.

He truly tries to see all those things, tries to see her for what she is.

All he sees is what she isn’t: Sinara. The only one he ever truly loved. Still loves, and will love to his last breath.

The one he let down. The one he doomed to her fate the moment he put his wants over her safety. He always knew his father would disapprove, always knew Garron was cruel. Sinara had told him not to try to make her decisions for her and he’d lapped up the excuse.

He’d wanted her by his side so desperately. Not enough to stop her from boarding that ship, not enough to find a way to turn the tide of battle. He’d brooded over battleplans day and night. He does it now again. He cannot find a way things might have gone differently.

Well, just the one: Sinara should never have wasted her time on him. That way, she’d never have wasted her life on him.

He goes over the battle again.

* * *

His wife must think he is out for the day. He usually is, disappearing at dawn and only returning once she has retired for the night.

He had such a sweet dream, though, of Sinara’s hands in his hair, her legs tangled with his, her chuckles at his poems, and the slight flush to her cheeks.

He wanted to fall back asleep so badly he missed the moment to slip away to avoid his wife for the day. Now she is arguing with someone in their quarters.

He does not mean to listen. It’s impossible not to; they keep raising their voices more and more.

He thinks he should probably recognise the voice but he does not. By the context of the heated exchange, he surmises that it is his father-in-law.

“Garron’s growing impatient,”he snaps.“As am I. It is about time you got with child.”

A short, sharp, unamused laugh.“Oh, is it, now? Get it through your thick skull already: My husband hardly knows I exist and if he somehow stumbles his way into acknowledging my existence, he calls me Sinara half the time. Do tell where you see me getting a child out of this marriage.”

She sounds half angry, half defeated.

Perhaps she’d like a child. He would have, too, once upon a time. A precious babe with golden eyes. He curls up and hugs his knees to his chest.

“You just need a man for that,”his wife’s father says,“Not a husband.”

Perhaps those words ought to sting but truly, it is sound advice. Well, it almost is.

After a long moment of silence, his wife points out the flaw in it, almost too quietly for Kasius to hear,“And let Garron have all our heads should he find out?”

Her father relents - or leaves, at least.

Kasius returns to his attempts to let sleep take him again. Maybe the dream is not lost yet. Maybe Sinara will be there again.

Hours later, he gives up. He leaves her another message before shaking the stiffness from his limbs and wandering out into the living room.

Sandei startles when he steps out of his study.

“May I join you for dinner?”Kasius asks.

She nods, eyeing him with something between curiosity and suspicion.

It does not surprise him. He has not joined her for a single meal so far, not since the wedding feast.

They eat mostly in silence. Sandei has given up on smalltalk, Kasius is carefully picking out his words. There is one way, he realised, in which Garron would quite happily accept a grandchild that is not actually his grandchild at all.

He thinks it’s only right to make his wife aware of it, and of his acceptance, should she choose to proceed in that manner. He does not want to deny her motherhood, if she wants it. He just wants no part in a child that isn’t Sinara’s, too. So he owes her this option, really. He cannot just come out and say it, of course.

“Father is very eager to see his bloodline continued,”he says, voice measured, a tad too aloof.“I’m as disappointing a son as I am a husband, I suppose.” He catches her gaze and tilts his head, a small smile curling his lips.“I think he would have quite liked a do-over child.”

Even if he would call it his grandchild. That matters little, so long as he can mold the child in his image.

Sandei stares at him for a long while, lips pursed tightly, as if holding back words. Then she returns her attention to her plate as if he had not spoken.

“The meat’s quite tender,”she says.

“Yes.” Kasius cuts himself a piece listlessly.“Just lovely.”

Mayhaps she thinks he means to trick her. Mayhaps she’ll do as he suggested.

He doesn’t care either way, not really.

He hasn’t cared about anything in a long time.

* * *

It is sheer coincidence he has his comms on and set to the right channel, leaving Sinara yet another message, when the transmission comes in.

The crackle sets his heart racing, thinking it is finally a reply for one glowing, absurd moment.

It is just Krenyk’s voice, though, informing the palace guard of an approaching ship full of a crew that claims to be their own soldiers, claims to be escaped prisoners of war.

Kasius holds his breath as he toggles between channels and finds one where a raspy, tired voice gives coordinates. They come from the right quadrant.

It’s unlikely. It’s stupid to hope.

He’s out of bed and all but running to the landing deck before he can even attempt to reason with himself.

The ship has not arrived yet. There are plenty of soldiers milling about.

“You should be asleep,”Krenyk remarks but he does not ask why Kasius is there.

He knows. Of course he knows. Everyone knows.

Krenyk even cares. He puts a hand on Kasius’ shoulder, just for a moment.“That battlefield was razed to the ground.”

Kasius doesn’t answer. The ship has docked. Its passengers are deboarding singlefile, the palace guard in long rows on either side of them.

They certainly look like prisoners of war, haggard and haunted, moving stiffly, slowly, blinking into the bright lights around them. They seem half-dead. But that’s half-alive, too, and Kasius can hardly ask for more.

His every heartbeat pains him, his stomach in a cold knot, his hands shaking, balled into fists at his side. He has deluded himself for months. Waiting in this hangar… it threatens the dreamworld he built. More a nightmare, yet still better than the probable reality.

He has spent so long pretending, wishing, seeing her in everyone, everything, in thin air and behind his eyelids that he isn’t sure she is real when she steps onto the ramp.

She’s having trouble walking. He wouldn’t make that up.

He moves forward in a daze, bumps into a soldier, doesn’t register anything but her. There’s no spark in those golden eyes when they meet his.

That should concern him. All he can do is reach out and wrap her in his arms.

Sinara slumps against his chest. Her arms remain at her side.

“I missed you,”he whispers. It’s all he manages. He has so many things he wants to say but there’s time for that later.

She still does not return his embrace.

“I’m,”she says. Her voice cracks. She clears her throat and tries again,“I’m filthy.”

She is, he supposes. Not that that matters to him. They’ll clean her up and she’ll feel better.

She squirms and it takes Kasius a moment to realise she is trying to break his hold, and another moment to understand she is too weak to actually do it.

He lets go of her, hands shooting to her arms to steady her as she teeters.

Her gaze finds his union mark and some sort of emotion flashes in her eyes, just briefly, and then they’re blank again.

“I thought you were dead,”Kasius says. It’s not really meant to explain his marriage. It’s just all he can think. He hasn’t allowed that thought until now, now that it isn’t true.

She turns and follows the other soldiers without a word to him.

* * *

There are certain perks to being the crown prince. The medics not protesting at him barging in and disturbing the patients is one of them.

He has given them more than enough time to assess Sinara for injuries and fix what they can. They release her into his care without complaint and with only a few looks exchanged between them that they don’t think he catches.

“I’m so glad to see you again,”Kasius says.

He tries to put his arm around her waist but Sinara sidesteps the attempt. She also ignores the arm he offers instead.

He tries not to show his hurt. The last few months were hell for him. They must have been much worse for Sinara.

He takes her to his chambers without thought for Sandei but then, his wife must be used to that by now. He touches Sinara’s elbow lightly when she looks towards the bedroom.

“I don’t sleep in there,”he says.

He can’t bring her to the study, though. The narrow sofa barely allows him to sleep comfortably. Sinara should have a proper bed to sleep in.

He steers her to the room of Sandei’s handmaiden. She’ll have to leave until they figure something out. Most handmaidens don’t stay around as much as that girl does, anyway, though he never begrudged Sandei the company. Someone might as well give their attention to her, because Kasius certainly has not.

She’s not there. The room does not look lived in. He’d wonder where the girl slept if he even cared in the slightest.

Sinara looks at him for a moment and then walks to the bed, dropping down on it like she can’t keep on her feet a second longer.

Kasius goes and fetches a bowl of warm water and a cloth. She clearly doesn’t have the energy to clean the grime off her face; she can’t feel good like this.

She flinches so hard when he brushes his fingers against her cheek to get her attention, he actually spills some of the water.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,”he says softly. Her eyes glaze over again and she stares up at the ceiling. Kasius holds up the cloth.“May I?”

She doesn’t react but she doesn’t pull away either, so he washes her face. It is so familiar, yet painfully different. Sunken cheeks, a new scar, her nose broken and healed wrong. His heart aches at the sight, at knowing he couldn’t protect her. Or didn’t. He should have run away with her before his father could ever take it upon himself to try and get rid of her.

He strokes her cheek when he’s done. He wants to run his fingers through her hair but the few inches left are too matted to attempt it.

“You’re safe now,”he promises.“I’ll keep you safe now, my love.”

She closes her eyes, a single sob wrenching free.“I’ve had that dream before.”

She turns her back to him and curls into a ball before he can question her words.

He tugs the covers over her. He can’t think what else to do.

Just that, and watching over her all night.

* * *

Kasius wakes up, slumped over the edge of the bed, when Sinara brushes against him as she gets out of bed.

He sits up and watches her walk to the small washroom in the semi-darkness. She’s moving stiffly, slowly, one arm outstretched as if she’s ready to catch herself.

He gives her her privacy, even when the shower runs and runs and runs with no other sound. She used to hum in the shower; it would echo, it would always make him smile.

He shoots up when he hears something crashing and Sinara crying out, rushes into the room, her privacy be damned.

The mirror is shattered, shards everywhere, a hairbrush on the floor in front of the nearly empty frame.

Sinara sits in the shower, hugging her knees to her chest, a few cuts from the shattered mirror all over her arms.

Kasius is by her in the blink of an eye, the water pattering down on them both as he reaches for her.“Are you alright?”

It’s a stupid question. She’s shaking.

“My hair,”she says, with a hiccup that only barely isn’t a sob.

She couldn’t get the brush through, he realises.

“I’ll help you,”he offers.

Her lower lip is wobbling, her voice timid when she says,“Don’t cut it.”

“Never.” The army sheared her almost bald, when she was eight and frightened and suddenly a soldier; she told him with a dry laugh and wet eyes, the first time she ever let him braid her hair. She’s grown it out for years, repairing the damage the army did to much more than her hair, until the enemy went and did the same to her.“I’d never do that, my darling.”

He switches off the water and wraps her in a towel, picks her up and doesn’t think about how he can feel every bone in her body, doesn’t think about how she doesn’t even protest, just slumps against him.

She remains slumped against his chest when he sits by the headboard, leaning against it.

He works through the knots and tangles in her hair for hours. It would be much easier just to shave it all off but he’d never even suggest that. He has failed her in so many ways, he won’t add this one.

After all the months of messages, he finds himself not speaking, now. He doesn’t know how to begin to apologise for whatever she’s been through.

She doesn’t speak, either. It isn’t unusual for her to be quiet, of course, but this silence feels wrong. It’s not the warm, easy silence of words that don’t need saying. It’s the harsh absence of wanting to say anything to him, or at least it feels that way.

“I’ll get another oil,”he tells her eventually.“That should keep everything nice and orderly.”

She scoots forward just enough to let him out. She has not moved by the time he returns.

He fetches her a robe before sitting back down behind her. She’s shaking. He pulls off his socks and puts them on her feet, instead.

Sinara stares at the patterns on them as he massages the oil into her scalp. She bought him those socks as a joke, once upon a time. They have little beakers and formulas on them.

She stares at his socks, he works on her hair, the silence becomes a little less heavy.

“There you go,”Kasius says, the last of the tangles long gone, and the tension having mostly faded from Sinara’s shoulders.“You’re perfect.”

She’s still shivering, though not quite so much. Kasius rubs along her arms, hoping to get some warmth back into her, then snakes his arms around her waist instead. She doesn’t tense and so he pulls her closer, settling her against his chest properly, pulling the covers around them both.

She squirms, feeble like a kitten, but she’s not trying to throw him off, she’s just getting comfortable, pressing her face against his throat. One hand settles against his side, fingers curling into his shirt, holding on tight.“You’re real, aren’t you?”

“I’m real,”he confirms and kisses her temple.

He’s having troubles believing she is, quite frankly. He really hopes she is. But if he has finally gone utterly mad, that is fine by him, too, so long as he gets to hold her.

* * *

It’s the only time she lets him hold her; the next week she shies away from most touches, though she does at least sleep in the chambers and she does not tell him to leave when he settles at her bedside.

She does not speak again for the whole week at all, in fact, but she is watching him at all times, and he refuses to leave her side. He feels like he’s a puzzle she’s trying to solve and he wants to offer her clues but he does not know what they are.

Instead, he just talks to her - at her? - and hopes he somehow says the right things, or at the very least not all the wrong ones.

He does not ask her about those months she was gone; Krenyk relays what he gathered from other prisoners about the labour camp. Sinara apparently was one of the ringleaders that started the revolt. Kasius doesn’t get the impression she meant to make it out alive, necessarily. She did, with dozens and dozens of soldiers at her heels. Garron is, begrudgingly, considering rewards: An order of merit, certainly, perhaps a title, too.

Kasius chatters about that, as he does anything that crosses his mind, except for things that might upset her.

“They said the empire had fallen,”Sinara says.

It isn’t a response to what he was saying but it’s words and that’s enough.

“Oh?”Kasius says. He does not need to ask who ‘they’ are. The enemy.

“I thought you were dead,”she adds. She winds her fingers in her hair and tugs.“I hoped you were dead.” The words hurt but he tries not to show it. She tugs at her hair harder.“Better dead than captured, I thought. Sometimes I pretended they were lying.”

He reaches out and tries to untangle her fingers but she just flinches away.

“Sinara,”he says. His voice breaks.“They were lying.”

She shrugs, nods, shrugs again.

“I thought you were dead,”she repeats.“I moved on.”

Kasius reels back as if she slapped him, his blood running cold.

“Moved on? What do you mean? Moved on to what?”

“To not lying to myself,”she says.

Her eyes linger on his union mark for a moment before she turns and leaves.

He wants to follow her but he doesn’t dare to.

So he just stands there and tries to puzzle out the riddle she’s become.

* * *

Sinara receives her title and a feast in her honour. Her face is blank, her back is straight, and her hands are shaking ever so slightly. Her eyes dart around the room, mapping escape routes.

Kasius steps up to her, making sure he is in her line of vision before gently touching her elbow. She looks at him, her eyes a little less closed off.

“May I have this dance?”Kasius asks.

She nods - jerks her head once, really - and he offers his hand. She takes it and follows him to the dancefloor.

He does not hold her as closely as he’d like. He’s afraid to spook her. He’s afraid she is just a ghost, a figment of his imagination after all.

They spin in circles; her gaze finds his again and again, but his union mark, too, and sometimes his lips.

“I’d like to leave now,”she says eventually. The muscle in her cheek is twitching, her hand a little clammy in his.

It has been many more than one dance.

“We can do that,”he says. There’s a question in it. Perhaps she is fleeing him as much as the event.

She doesn’t let go of his hand, not even when they’re back in their chambers.

She leads him over to the huge window overlooking the gardens, cracks it open just enough to let a gentle stream of cool air in.

They just stand there in silence for a while.

“I didn’t move on,”Kasius says.“I don’t intend to ever do so, either.”

She drops her head against his shoulder and doesn’t reply.

* * *

Kasius awakes to something jabbing him in the shoulder repeatedly. He jolts, aggravating the now constant crick in his neck from sleeping in the armchair.

“I’ve been issued a new communicator,”Sinara says.

He blinks at her through the semi-darkness of the room.“Oh?”

“I had messages,”she adds.

Kasius swallows around the lump forming in his throat.“Oh.”

All his ramblings, all his incoherent, desperate, long-winded babbles. How he was wallowing in self pity while she was in actual peril…

“I don’t think I could make half of that up,”Sinara says and tugs on his arm.“Or anyone else.”

He doesn’t understand but he lets her pull him onto the bed, his heart hammering frantically.

She nudges him into position and lays down again, too, so they are barely touching, just their legs brushing against each other.“I’ve decided you’re probably real.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”he asks.

He does not wish to ruin the moment but he does want to understand.

“You might’ve been a trick.” She searches his face for - something.“To get information. Rhi thought she was talking to her mother, and then they killed her.” She shrugs though she does look mildly perturbed.“Tell me something only you would know?”

“Wouldn’t that be pointless, since you’d know it already, too?”

She cocks her head to the side, a slow smile finding its way onto her lips.“Only you would say something so misplaced and yet true in a moment like this.”

“I’m good with words,”he protests.

“You tell yourself that,”she says.

She closes her eyes and allows sleep to take her. Kasius tries to stay awake, wanting to soak up as many moments as possible of having her so close to him, but he succumbs to exhaustion eventually.

He hasn’t slept so well in months.

Sinara’s half draped across his chest when he wakes up and he holds his breath but she does not flinch away. Instead, she takes his hand and brings it to the nape of her neck.

He doesn’t need to ask what she wants of him. He runs his fingers through her hair and she lets out a soft sigh.

* * *

“You really should be more careful,”Sinara says, some of her old humour twinkling in her eyes as she spreads the healing gel onto his skin for him.

“I’m afraid you’re right.” He smiles at her and hisses when she presses the bandage into place. It hurts more than he anticipated but the pain is worth it, just for her to scoff and roll her eyes at him in that fond way he missed so much.“One moment of inattention and the sample exploded.”

“Quite a localised explosion,”Sinara points out.

Kasius tilts his head and pretends to consider her words.“Yes, quite strange how that happened. Always more to learn, such is the nature of science.”

“Of course.” She pokes at the bandage, just enough to sting a little without really hurting.“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to that explosion looking like you purposefully removed your union mark.”

He clicks his tongue.“I’m sure you’re not suggesting I took a heated blade to my own neck just because I could no longer stand having that thing on me, or the way you’d look at it.”

“Because that would be preposterous, of course.”

“Exactly.” He takes her hand. When she doesn’t pull away, he raises it and brushes a kiss across her knuckles.“Now, what would you like for dinner?”

* * *

It has been a few weeks of him sleeping in bed with her, of them ending up cuddled together. They have even gone to sleep that way a handful of times, when Sinara had a particularly bad day and needed the reassurance that he was real, that she wouldn’t wake up to him gone and herself back in the prisoner colony.

It was a good day today, or at least Kasius thinks so, so he is surprised when she joins him in bed and scoots close, her leg touching his, her hand on his hip as she props herself up on the other elbow to look at him.

He looks back at her expectantly. She keeps studying his face silently. He smiles. She continues to stare but her eyes are soft, in that way they are so often - used to be often, truly, a rare and welcome sight these days - when she doesn’t quite smile at him.

He waits for her to speak a little longer, just enjoying the moment. It feels almost like it used to.

“Yes, my darling?”he prompts eventually.

Maybe she wants to ask him a favour. He just hopes it isn’t for chambers of her own.

Sinara still does not speak.

Instead, she leans in and brushes her lips against his ever so lightly. He doesn’t dare move, barely dares to breathe. She does it again, and again, and again, touches so brief he would have no time to react, even if he could figure out if she wants him to.

Then, finally, her lips linger longer, move against his in a silent question, and he answers it by kissing her back. It’s slow and tender and innocent, her hand on his cheek and his on the bed, letting her take the lead completely. She shifts and her breasts brush his chest; he groans against her mouth before he can stop himself.

Instead of pulling away like he feared, Sinara deepens the kiss and brings one of his hands to her hip. She’s half on top of him, her shirt is riding up a little. The inch of skin under his fingers sends spark through his whole body.

They just keep kissing, somehow desperate yet at the same time with no urgency to it. The taste and feel of her are so familiar and yet he needs to learn her all new.

The soft, breathy sounds that escape her make him want more. He would be content with these kisses alone for eternity.

He doesn’t know what makes her stop eventually, as little as he knows what made her start this. She gives him one last peck and rests her head on his chest.

“Goodnight,”she says simply.

“Goodnight,”Kasius echoes and wraps an arm around her waist.

It certainly is a very, very good night.

* * *

Sinara’s new rank and title make her officially part of Kasius’ social circle, though she would be more at the fringes of his group of so-called friends if she weren’t - well, Sinara.

She doesn’t particularly enjoy the events and outings; Kasius does not much care for them either, would much rather just stay in their chambers with Sinara and soak up every second of her presence to make up for the time he missed her.

There are things he can’t get around attending, as crown prince. Sinara sets her shoulders and clenches her teeth and pretends not to hear him offer that she can just stay in bed. She does not abide him straying from her side for long.

The feeling is quite mutual but he does not wish for her to feel like she has to still act as his guard. She’s somehow less relaxed heading for a picnic in the palace gardens than she used to be on battlefields.

His friends - the people he grew up with, most of whom were Faunak’s friends and not Kasius’, really - are wary of her, as she is of them. Or curious, which might be worse.

Her jaw clenches at a particularly intrusive question, her fingers digging into his leg, hidden behind a picnic basket, and Clio distracts Ria from waiting for her answer; Sandei shifts so she’s taking herself and Sinara out of the circle, and starts talking about how the harvest will be ready soon, how she has ordered rastanies pies for their next outing.

Kasius watches them fondly. He tries to feel guilty for being such a bad husband to such a sweet woman; he just feels thankful Sinara’s grip relaxes. He rests his hand on hers, pretends to listen to Akedus as he makes some adjustments to the plan forming in his mind.

* * *

A few weeks of snogging like adolescents take their toll. Kasius isn’t surprised to wake up to Sinara in his arms and his body reacting.

What surprises him is that, when he tries to angle his hips away so Sinara won’t notice, she simply says,“Don’t.”

He stays right where he was and Sinara shifts closer, pressing herself against him firmly, her hips circling slowly.

“What,”he starts but stops talking again right away. It is pretty obvious what she is doing.

She stills mid-movement.“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,”he says hastily.“I want - I - are you sure you want - what do you want?”

She gives a noncommittal hum in response and her hips take up their slow grind again.

“Let’s just see,”she says.

He nods, even though she can’t see, his mouth too dry to speak. She feels so good pressed against him. He puts his hand on her hip and then strokes up her side, and down again, up and down and up, until Sinara catches his wrist.

It probably got too much, he guesses.

Wrongly so. Instead of placing his hand back on her hip or pushing it away altogether, she guides his hand to her breast.

He follows her lead, a little hesitantly at first, worried of pushing her too far, uncertain whether he should be indulging like this. But he trusts her, and more importantly: She trusts him.

* * *

“Did you know,”Kasius says, evenly, his hand finding Sinara’s, his eyes finding Sandei’s,“that I have these premonitions, at times?”

“Oh?”Sandei says and waits for more.

“It is quite strange.” He smiles. Maybe she thinks he’s going mad. But then, she didn’t fault him for it when it was true.“There will be an accident, I feel, not long from now.”

She stiffens. She misunderstood, clearly. Sees a threat in his words.

“A babe might soothe some of the strains of widowhood,”he clarifies.

It’s no threat. It’s just a heads-up to a woman who has been unfailingly kind in the face of an utterly lacking husband that now will, once again, let her down.

Sandei relaxes. Sinara squeezes his fingers.

“You shouldn’t worry yourself,”Sandei says.“Prophecy isn’t real.”

She smiles, Kasius returns it.

They share a bottle of wine.

They never speak of his warning again.

* * *

There’s a smug look on Garron’s face.

There’s a blood test that should give Kasius pause.

There’s a burning wreckage that neither the crown prince nor the recently made viscountess can be pulled out of.

There’s funerals in the capital, and a small cottage far away from it.

There’s a new crown prince; there’s a man named Kasius who has no titles, nor want of any, and there is his wife, who has a twinkle in her eyes he once thought was lost forever.

There’s a union mark atop the healed yet scarred burns, and this one actually means something.

Eventually, there’s a babe. A precious babe with golden eyes.


End file.
